


Sometimes It’s Not Enough

by Fangirl_fanatic



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Christen Press needs a hug, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Inadvertent Self-Harm, Obsessive Behavior, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Panic Attacks, its not really bad but be cautious, read with caution folks, stay safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23591098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirl_fanatic/pseuds/Fangirl_fanatic
Summary: Christen's not a germaphobe — she's not, okay?— she's just a little cautious. Well, maybe more than a little but that doesn't mean she's a germaphobe or a neat freak or whatever else her teammates call her. Sure, she doesn't like to ever have her hands dirty and she cleans her face and teeth four times a day but that doesn't immediately equate to a fear of germs or anything like that. She's just not a huge fan of dirt or grime or anything gross. Call it an issue with contamination if you must but she's not a germaphobe.
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 12
Kudos: 136





	Sometimes It’s Not Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of anxiety and inadvertent harm to oneself. It’s not extreme or anything but just read with caution. Stay safe, folks!

Christen's not a germaphobe — she's not, okay?— she's just a little cautious. Well, maybe more than a little but that doesn't mean she's a germaphobe or a neat freak or whatever else her teammates call her. Sure, she doesn't like to ever have her hands dirty and she cleans her face and teeth four times a day but that doesn't immediately equate to a fear of germs or anything like that. She's just not a huge fan of dirt or grime or anything gross. Call it an issue with contamination if you must but she's not a germaphobe.

Christen's biggest trouble, though, is the soccer field. Which is strange because her paycheck is literally determined by how long she spends on the pitch but it absolutely disgusts her. Players spit, sweat, puke, and bleed on the field — not to mention the times she's caught teammates blowing stuff out of their nose onto the grass. It's disgusting. And Christen detests it with every fiber of her being but that's not going to stop her from doing her job to the best of her ability. 

It just means that it causes moments like these when Christen is the last one in the locker room, scrubbing her entire body clean until her skin is burning. This time, though, it's after a home game versus the Thorns and Tobin is waiting for her. But still, Christen can't stand for even one more second to have all the grime on her from playing a full ninety so she stays in the shower long after the other stalls are deserted. 

By the time Christen walks out back into the locker room, her skin is pink and rubbed a little raw, though she's still internally freaking out. She'd forgotten her good shower gel at home and in her rush to not leave Tobin sitting alone too long she hadn't washed her face properly. She wants to shower again — absolutely needs to — and resolves to hop into the shower once they get back to the apartment. 

Tobin's sitting near all of Christen's stuff just like she said she would be and has even packed up a few of her things in the order that she knows Christen likes it. Tobin's already showered — if her wet hair is anything to go by, that is — despite the fact that Christen is sure the away team locker room is nowhere near as clean as the one that hosts the home team. 

"Ready?" Tobin asks with a grin, standing up and greeting Christen with a kiss when she walks over. 

"Yep, just let me pack up my stuff real quick." Christen can't keep the smile off her face despite the worries lingering in the back of her mind as Tobin hovers nearby, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She packs up her bag in the exact order she likes them slings it over her shoulder, turning to Tobin with the smile still on her face. "Now I'm ready."

"Great!" Tobin reaches for Christen's hand and laces their fingers together as they walk out of the locker room. Christen smiles and says goodnight to the janitorial staff in the lobby as they leave and then they're finally out of the stadium. It's already dark out as they make their way to Christen's car, disconnecting their hands and throwing their stuff in the trunk. Tobin throws herself into the passenger seat with a heavy exhaustion that Christen understands deeply as she almost does the same. 

The ride to her apartment is quiet. Tobin has her eyes closed but one hand holding Christen's across the center console, tapping a random rhythm into her skin with her thumb as Christen drives. The drive is short, something Christen is thankful for everyday after a long practice and pretty soon they're walking through the front door of her apartment with duffle bags slung over their shoulders. Tobin drops hers by the door like she does every time, spares of all the stuff she needs already in the bedroom and bathroom. 

Tobin heads to the kitchen to scrounge around for some food as Christen's thoughts drift back to the dirt possibly still encrusted on her body. She sighs. "I'm going to go take a shower," Christen says and hopes that Tobin won't say anything. The look of confusion on her face as she turns around says otherwise and soon she's opening her mouth. 

"But you showered at the stadium?" Tobin has a weird look on her face that goes beyond confused that Christen doesn't even want to try and interpret. 

She shrugs, shifting her feet and slowly making her way over to the hallway that leads to the bedroom as Tobin watches her. "I forgot to wash my hair."

Tobin doesn't look like she believes her but Christen leaves before she can get another word in, heading to the bathroom with one goal — get clean. It sounds easier than it actually is. She's got a routine that absolutely has to be followed or it's not good enough — it takes up a lot of time, with several intervals of Christen just scrubbing at her skin and then letting the soap sit for five minutes. If she's being honest, there's a clock in her bathroom for this specific purpose — which might be a little extreme but it's necessary. 

Christen goes through her routine same as normal even though she'd done most of it at the stadium already, taking her time so that she won't have to redo the entire thing for the third time. She scrubs at her skin, thoughts of spit and snot plaguing her as she cleans every inch of her body. Her hair takes an extra long time due to the thick curls which cause Christen to have to be careful that nothing remains stuck in her hair. She cleans it once, washes out the shampoo, and then does it again. 

Christen's on to her third round of body wash — her final step in the shower — as the clock ticks past 9 o'clock. She's tired, her hands and feet wrinkling from being in the water for so long, and her skin almost feels like rubber with the amount of scrubbing she's done. Still, all she can think about is getting off all the grime that comes with the game. She's focused, cleaning and cleaning and—

"Hey, Chris," Tobin calls out, knocking loudly on the bathroom door and startling Christen out of her thoughts, "dinner's ready."

"Okay, I'll be out in a moment." Christen knows it's a lie. She has to rewash her entire body now because she jumped into the stream of water too early and that's just simply not good enough. Plus, she still has to brush her teeth — 2 minutes on both rows of teeth, obviously — and do a five minute face wash. She tells the lie anyway and sighs in relief as Tobin leaves the door, not questioning Christen. 

She's finally done 30 minutes later coming across only one small hiccup — realizing after she'd washed her face that she'd forgotten to wash her hands before touching her face and then having to restart the whole process. When she walks out, finally at ease, Tobin's smiling at her with a crooked grin that seems just a little off — too thin-lipped, maybe — but Christen doesn't dwell on it, chalking up her weird facial expression to exhaustion. 

"I've already set the plates on the coffee table. It might be a little cold though, since you were in the shower washing your hair for so long," Tobin says and it's set up teasingly but there's an underlying exasperation to her tone. Christen, really too tired to start a fight, decides to just take it as a joke and laughs brightly. 

"Sorry about that. It takes a while to tame the mane." Christen gestures to her wild curls, pulling a face that eases the tension in Tobin's shoulders and makes her smile, a real genuine smile. 

"Well, I don't know about you but I'm ready to eat. It's just pasta, I hope that's okay."

"Fine by me, I'm starving."

"I'm sure you are, Miss 'goal-scoring machine.' You couldn't have just let us win?" Tobin's joking, it's easy to tell, and Christen throws her head back and laughs, mostly just happy to be back with the love of her life — no matter how cheesy that sounds. 

"No chance, Heath." They both chuckle and Christen gives Tobin an apologetic kiss on the cheek. "Anyways, I'm gonna go wash my hands before we sit down to eat."

It's a casual statement but Tobin hesitates anyway, the tension starting to coil back around her shoulder blades. "You just showered," Tobin points out, nodding towards Christen's still-wrinkled fingers. 

"I know, but I don't want to get dirt in my food." The change in Tobin's demeanor is odd but Christen's a little busy worrying about cleaning off her hands. 

"Dirt — Chris, what? We're eating with forks."

"I'm just going to wash my hands, real quick I promise," Christen says and the hurries into the kitchen, vaguely hearing Tobin muttering something about cold food as she goes to sit on the couch and start eating while she waits. 

She washes them quickly, a one-and-done kind of thing that has Christen heading over to sit by Tobin on the couch not even a minute later. Tobin scoots over easily, making room and then curling up into Christen as she flicks on the TV. She leaves it on the sports channel that it's already set to, mostly just for the purpose of background noise as they eat and catch up.

"Thank you for making dinner," Christen says softly, pressing a kiss to Tobin's temple before she starts eating. Tobin nods, a forkful of spaghetti already in her mouth. She grinning but Christen thinks about the tension earlier and then to her shower, when it all started. She's trying to figure out what was going on in Tobin's head at the time but then she thinks about how she was brushing her hair — quite the task with all of her curls and mostly it's just to untangle them slightly — and then freezes. Fuck. She forgot to clean out the hair from her brush. How could she forget, that's the last thing she always does. 

Christen tries to ignore it, she really does, but the thought of a nasty tangle of hair just sitting in her brush starts to gross her out. She has to fix it, just real quick. She swallows her food, sets her plate down, and is up off the couch by the time Tobin springs up as well. She catches her wrist, gently grabbing her attention but then immediately releasing her so as to not trap Christen anywhere she doesn't want to be. 

"Where are you going?" Tobin asks, her voice laced with emotions that make Christen stop in her tracks. 

"To the bathroom real quick, I forgot to clean out my brush," she says hesitantly, looking over her shoulder to watch Tobin run a hand through her hair. She almost seems frustrated but Christen doesn't know why. Well, until—

"Christen," Tobin says, her voice a little hard and the use of her full name not helping, "why are you avoiding me?"

Christen turns her body around fully but still takes a step back, the brush sitting on her counter nagging at the back of her mind. "I'm not, I swear, it's just my brush — I've got to fix it real quick."

"Can't it wait until after dinner?" Christen's palms start sweating at the thought of leaving the brush just sitting there and her heart rate picks up as she shakes her head rapidly. 

"I just — one second please." 

Christen scurries off before Tobin can respond, rushing to the bathroom like a mad woman and swiping the brush off the counter. She starts picking out the hair as fast as possible, discarding it into the trash can under the sink. This always takes a long time — the process of getting every single piece of Christen's hair untangled and out of the brush until it's completely clean can last more than half an hour on bad days — but she's rushing. Tobin's waiting for her so she has to do it quickly — but still perfectly. She's going so fast her fingers start to hurt as they scrape against the bristles, still raw from all the scrubbing in the shower. It has to be perfect but she also has to hurry. Perfect but fast. Perfect but fast. Perfect but—

"Christen." Tobin's angry voice startles her and she nearly drops the hairbrush, turning around to look at her girlfriend who's suddenly appeared in the doorway. "Why the hell are you avoid... Chris, you're bleeding."

The sudden change of tone gives her whiplash but then she's looking down at her hands, confused. Oh. She hadn't really noticed, obviously a little preoccupied, but there's blood starting to run down her fingers and palms. The skin around most of her fingernails is cracked and bleeding, torn up from the bristles of the brush. Tobin walks over to her slowly like she's some kind of scared animals and grabs the brush. Christen's so shocked that she lets her pry the hairbrush from her finger, just staring as Tobin turns on the sink and runs it under the spray, the water coming away pink as it swirls down the drain. She washes it quickly and is then sets it down, turning to Christen with a soft facial expression. 

"Babe, you have a first aid kit, right? Where's it at?" Tobin grabs Christen's arm and leads her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom while she fumbles for an answer. 

"The, um, linen closet. Top shelf."

"Okay, I'm going to go get it. Why don't you sit on the floor, you're not gonna want to get blood on the bed sheets." Christen nods after one look over to her white comforter and she sits down on the hardwood floor as Tobin rushes out the door. She looks down at her hands, the pain caused by the torn up skin now starting to set in. It's now that Christen realizes that's she's shaking, her entire body trembling as she sits on the floor waiting for her girlfriend. 

Tobin arrives back quickly, finding Christen on the floor where she'd left her but now looking close to tears, shaking, and her chest heaving with labored breaths. In an instant, Tobin is by Christen's side with gentle hands rubbing circles into her back and cupping her cheek softly. "Breathe, baby. Deep breaths, okay? Just like how you taught me that one time I wanted to try yoga." Christen lets out a strangled laugh at the memory, focusing on the way Tobin is demonstrating how to take deep breaths next to her as she moves her hand away from Christen's cheek and into her still-wet hair, stroking it softly. "That's it, in and out. You're doing great, baby, I'm so proud of you, okay? Just keep breathing. In and out."

"I'm sorry," Christen gasps out as soon as she is able to, sending her right back into the quick, uncontrolled breathing patterns that she'd thought were over. 

"Nothing to be sorry about, Chris," Tobin soothes, one hand still on her back and the other in her hair, "this is nothing to be ashamed of, I promise. Just take some deep breaths."

Tobin ends up having to lead Christen through breathing exercises for a few more minutes after that, murmuring soft words to her in between instructions. It gets worse before it gets better, with several tears escaping down Christen's face as she tries to regain control. It takes a lot longer than Christen would want but Tobin's still sitting next to her dutifully as she finally collects herself enough to be able to breath properly. 

"Do you want some water?" Tobin asks softly, bringing her hand away from Christen's hair to wipe away some of the tears on her cheek instead. Sheepishly, Christen nods. 

"Yes please." Tobin gets up off the floor and leaves the bedroom for a second time, sending a reluctant glance back to Christen as she remembers what happened the last time she left to get something. 

She comes back quickly, Christen's filled water bottle in hand. "Here you go hon."

"Thank you."

"No need to thank me. I'm here for you. Always." Suddenly, it doesn't feel like Tobin is talking about the water anymore so all Christen can do is nod. Tobin nods too, like that's final and, as Christen unscrews her water bottle, she turns to the first aid kit she'd set aside when she'd come into the room to find her girlfriend panicking. Tobin's glances up at Christen, who's eagerly gulping down water, and picks up a few things. 

"I'm going to start by wiping off all the blood, okay?" Tobin checks in, her gaze soft and unwavering as she waits for an answer. It's only as Christen's nodding after she sets down the water bottle that she realizes Tobin brought a wet washcloth with her as well. She brings it up to Christen’s hands and starts slowly wiping away the blood, being extra gentle as Christen watches. There's really not as much blood as there seemed beforehand and it's all gone soon enough, though Christen has to hide a wince when she sees it crusted under her fingernails. She really wants to wash her hands but that's probably not a good idea.

Christen's fingers are starting to throb and the pain is searing through her hand, making her whimper as Tobin sets the cloth to the side. "It hurts," she murmurs, lower lip involuntarily trembling as her hands shake from out in front of her. 

Tobin makes a soothing noise, bringing her hand up to brush away a few stray strands of Christen's curls. "I know baby, I'm sorry. I wish I could make it better," Tobin says, raising one of Christen's hand to kiss the back of it softly. Goosebumps rise on Christen's arms and Tobin pulls away, biting her lip sympathetically as she reaches for the first aid kit. "The best thing to do right now is treat your hands so they can heal up as soon as possible."

"Yeah," Christen says slowly, nodding her head sadly as Tobin starts digging through the kit. She pulls out hand sanitizer, alcohol-free cleansing wipes, bandaids, and antiseptic cream. To Christen's relief, Tobin uses the hand sanitizer on her own hands and then grabs the pack of cleansing wipes. 

"I'm going to clean around the damaged skin, okay babe? It might hurt a little but I'm gonna try to be gentle." Tobin's voice is soft but also leaves little room for argument as Christen nods her consent. She wipes the tips and sides of almost every single one of Christen's fingers, keeping her word of being gentle but it still stings as she gets close to the torn areas of skin. "Now I'm just going to put the antiseptic and bandaids on then we're done."

Christen is relieved that the end is near but she's also not naive to think that they're not going to have a serious conversation about what happened. The thought of her impending doom — or at least, that's what Christen thinks of it as — makes anxiety twist in her stomach. If Tobin notices that her hands start to shake more than they already are, she doesn't say anything about it. 

The antiseptic is probably the worst part of the whole thing because it makes her think back to the snot that had been blown onto the field — or the spit — and the consistency of the cream makes Christen shudder. It doesn't help when Tobin seals a bandaid over each blob of antiseptic, leaving Christen to think about how it'll be on her skin for at least the next 24 hours. She tries her best to not freak out about it. By the time Tobin's finished, seven of her fingers are bandaged and Christen is still attempting to not throw up at the Neosporin under each bandaid. 

When Tobin looks up after inspecting Christen's hands for any missed cuts, she's surprised to see her looking like she's just seen a ghost. "What's wrong?" Tobin asks in concern, furrowing her eyebrows and running a hand up and down Christen's arm in an attempt to coax an answer out of her. 

"I don't like it," Christen whispers, staring down at her hands with a frown. Confused, Tobin glances down as well. 

"Don't like what, baby?" 

"The Neosporin. It's all gross and slimy." It sounds so juvenile that it makes the blood rush to her cheeks and resiliently avoid Tobin's caring gaze. Christen's nose is scrunched up in a way that would be cute in any other situation but now, it just concerns Tobin. She shifts her weight on the floor and wraps her arms around Christen, pulling her head to her chest and cradling her body as she shudders. 

"I know, hon, but it's going to protect your fingers. It's helping to keep everything disinfected," Tobin says, like she's reminding Christen more than reassuring her. It helps, a little at least, and Christen nods into Tobin's chest.

"I'm sorry," she says, her voice barely audible even in the silent apartment. Tobin sighs and runs a hand through Christen's hair. 

"I already told you Chris, you don't have to apologize."

"No, that’s not what I meant,” Christen says, her voice a little stronger, "I'm sorry for scaring you and making you think I was avoiding you. I'm sorry for not telling you what was going on."

"How about we move this conversation to the bed?" Tobin suggests gently, shifting her weight as Christen agrees and pulls away from her. They stand up and stretch a little, sore from sitting on the hardwood for so long, and then crawl onto the bed. They curl up into the middle together without so much as speaking a word, Tobin on her back and Christen on her side facing her. Tobin pulls an arm around Christen, who scoots up so that their heads are level with each other. 

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” Tobin prompts, turning her head so that she’s making eye contact with Christen. 

“I don’t want you to think I’m crazy,” Christen murmurs, avoiding Tobin’s steadfast gaze. 

“Christen, listen to me.” Tobin puts her hand under Christen’s chin and delicately raises her head so that they’re looking at each other. “I could never think you’re crazy, okay? I love you and I’m here for you, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah I just—” Christen’s voice cracks and she shakes her head at herself, “It’s embarrassing and I’m... scared.”

The insecurity in her voice catches Tobin off guard and she wraps her arm around Christen tighter, squeezing lightly. “Hey, no judgment here, okay? I’m so proud of you for opening up, you’re so strong, baby, so strong.”

“I don’t like the soccer field,” Christen blurts and then pushes on even though Tobin opens her mouth in confusion. “I love soccer, but it’s just, the players spit on the field. And they puke and bleed and sweat all over the place. And for all I know, there’s bird shit all over it too.”

“Is that’s what’s bothering you?” Tobin asks, as caring as ever, when she sees the way Christen starts to get worked up again. 

“I hate it,” she whispers, shuddering and closing her eyes tightly to try to get the thoughts out of her mind. “It makes my skin crawl, the thought of being dirty. And it gets worse on game days but it’s just so hard to ignore all the time.”

“You take really long showers.” It’s a statement and Christen can see it all starting to click into place for Tobin. 

“I have this routine for after games. It’s long and it’s exhausting but it makes me feel better but today—” Christen’s voice cracks again, “today I skipped a step on accident and so I had to do it again when I got home. And then the brush needed to be cleaned out but you were mad at me and—”

“Hey, babe, take a deep breath. In and out,” Tobin encourages softly, leaning down to rest her forehead against Christen’s, who’s eyes are squeezed shut. “Everything’s fine right now, just take a few calming breaths.”

When Christen opens her eyes again it’s to Tobin’s face right in front of her, worry lines appearing on her forehead as she stares at Christen with gentle eyes. “Thank you.”

“Always.” Tobin says, the simple word firm in a way that lets Christen know she’s means it. 

“It gets bad sometimes, when I’m really stressed or tired, and then I just can’t stop thinking about all the grime and unsanitary things that are around me.”

“How long have you felt like this?” Tobin asks, bringing her free hand over to rest it on Christen’s hip. 

“I don’t know.” Christen nuzzles her cheek into Tobin’s shoulder slightly, squirming closer to her in the process. “It wasn’t always this bad but I’d say around college when I started getting really serious about soccer and there was always so much pressure on me.”

“Do you think maybe you should talk to a doctor about this?”

Christen sighs and closes her eyes like this was something she expected. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

“Hey,” Tobin says lowly, gaining Christen’s attention, “I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re dealing with something hard that’s causing unnecessary anxiety. I think you’re clearly in pain and getting a little help wouldn’t hurt.”

“I guess.” Christen moves so that her nose is pressing into Tobin’s skin as she shyly avoids her gaze. “Can we table that thought until later?”

“Of course, babe.” Tobin pulls Christen tighter against her, pressing a kiss into her hair as Christen buries her nose into the crook of her neck. “I’m here for the long haul, rain or shine, okay?”

“I know, Tobs,” Christen murmurs into her skin, “and I love you for it but I’m just so tired.”

“I think we both could use some sleep.” Tobin pulls away, much to Christen’s distaste which she shows with a groan. “I have to turn the lights off or we’re never going to fall asleep.”

Christen nods, squinting at the light a little and mumbling, “Yeah, okay.”

Tobin laughs at her girlfriend’s grumpiness but wastes no time in hurrying across the room, flipping the light switch off, and then returning to the bed. Christen has already flopped onto her other side and under the covers by the time that she gets back so that Tobin can now hold her from behind, pressed closely together as the promise of sleep starts to weigh on their eyelids. 

“Tobs?” Christen whispers, a yawn coming from her as well. 

“Yeah, babe?”

“Thank you.” The murmured statement makes Tobin roll her eyes, Christen saying it as if they haven’t already gone over this. 

“Always. Forever and always, I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> The ending is meh but we’re chilling so it’s fine. Thank you for reading! I’d love to hear any comments/feedback y’all have!


End file.
